


Trials of Royals

by chartamincinere



Category: Original Work
Genre: (Not accurate), Coronations, Everyone’s pregnant in the first chapter, F/F, F/M, Fictional Royals, M/M, Other, Playboy Princes, Royals, Scandal, Some are SFW, lesbian queens, lost at sea, others are not, royal family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartamincinere/pseuds/chartamincinere
Summary: In a fictional world, land is nearly infinite - which means many royals families! Over 200, to be exact. Princesses, Kings, Empresses and Rulers, these are their stories.





	Trials of Royals

**Author's Note:**

> I’m new to writing on here, and I am not the best. So enjoy my characters, or don’t, do whatever you want.

He paces the floor. His wife, his Queen, has approached him, dressed only in lace. 

The honeymoon was only a few months ago, so newlywed royalty aren't strangers to random sex, especially when heirs have to be produced. Everyone says to have them young, so you still have energy to run around after them. Seems like this Queen is eager. After all, she has spoken of little children so fondly; cooing and babbling at the infants she meets when in public. It feels like recently, there hasn't been a day where she hasn't mentioned having children. 

He turns his attention back to her. She steps towards him softly, partially whispering reminders to herself, and the other offering things for him to do to her. He glides his hands over the fabric, her breasts and hips wrapped in the finest materials available. He takes notice of little details, like her initials written on the corner of the bottoms. Ruffles, suiting her soft, bubbly, girlish personality. The pale stockings hanging onto her thighs. 

He flicks his gaze upward, meeting her amber eyes. She raises an eyebrow in invitation. He steps forward, wrapping his arm around her hips. Their lips meet, gentle and delicate at first, then progressing to passion and depth. When her head hits the pillows, and she lets out all the noises she's been containing, he feels all restriction peel away from him like a tight film; looking down, he smiles a new smile. One full of want, please, yes & don't stop. Ever.

—————

"My King! Come quickly!" The doctor yells from the other room, not waiting to run and retrieve him. Nikolai steps out of the waiting area, picking up speed as worry envelopes his mind. Is there a baby? Will I have a son or a daughter? Are there two? He reaches the door and peers inside. One of the nurses nearby waves him in, and shuffling over to the door shuts it behind him. He sees his Queen laid out on the bed, her shirt rolled up, some kind of shiny gel covering her abdomen. The screen near the bed is black and white, showing a grainy image of something. The doctor swivels around, and seeing the King, taps several buttons and spins away to let him see the monitor. He leans in, and the doctor points at two different blobs of gray. 

"Twins, your Majesty. Two heirs."

His Queen looks at him, expression full of emotion. Happiness, eagerness, excitement, and a hint of worry. He leans down beside her, close enough to whisper in her ear, and kisses her on the cheek. Soft, gentle motions of love. He turns back to the doctor. "How far along is she?" The doctor picks up his clipboard, set aside for nurses and officials to look through. He flips the page up, his eyes running over the ink. Pencil marks the Queen's responses to the questions. The doctor makes a noise of confusion, and waves over a nurse to assist him. She soon picks it out of the scribbled writing. He places the board into the nurse's hands, and stands up. 

"My King, she's only 16 weeks. You will not be able to find out the sex of the babies until around 20 weeks, maybe later. I suggest you remain patient, we are doing everything we can to keep this pregnancy healthy. Can't have heirs without a healthy Queen." Nikolai dismisses the doctor, and the nurses follow suit. She lifts herself from the exam bed, glancing to his face to see his reaction. The blank emotion that sits there has her puzzled. He leans over her, placing his hands on her stomach. "Two," he whispers, "two little ones." She nods. "Yes, Nikolai. Twins."

—————

The next outing scheduled for the royals comes a month before his Queen is due. Her belly, rounded with child, is a shocking disruption on her thin figure. She keeps her hands on the bump whenever she can, one under and the other over. Her hands, soft with lotion and shiny with the many rings, decorate her stomach just as much as her clothing. Many children they meet ask to speak to the babies, and a few feel the bump and wait for the twins to kick. They visit their neighboring kingdoms, one Queen with four children, trying to conceive her fifth, hopefully a daughter this time. The other is a very new couple, in the same dilemma as they were a few months back. The new Queen can hardly keep up with her responsibilities, and she even confided in the other royal mothers that she was hesitant to have a child. 

"Her Majesty, the Queen of Esheique is due within the next month, and thereby requires assistance from time to time." The older Queen speaks to the crowd they've gathered in front of with their husbands. "She has an advisor at her arm at all times. Pregnancy can be very stressful, so the more help available is greatly appreciated." The newest Queen smiles, wary of small children and infants handed to her as they spot her in the crowd. One mother asks the advisor if Nikolai would hold her son, and he simply remains blank-faced. The Queen, however, leans forwards to pick up the child. She sets him on her hip, big enough to be a toddler but little enough to hold for a while. The mother doesn’t turn to look back at Nikolai, instead motioning her older daughter to come up beside her and watch. The daughter resembles her mother, in hair color, eye color, even facial structure. The only difference is the girl’s stomach extended in a small bump, unlike her own. Nikolai’s Queen inches down the steps carefully, to reach the girl and her mother. The girl couldn’t be much older than 16, and her mother takes note of the shadows in her daughter’s eyes. “Your Majesty, may I know your personal name? I find it helps the relationship in a new conversation.” 

“My personal name! Why, nobody ever stops to ask, it’s always ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘My Queen.’ My name is Kiziah. But you may call me Kizzy.” The Queen leans in, in a hushed tone. “It’s the nickname the advisors and my husband have for me.” The girl giggles, patting her bump. Her mother spins around. “I’m sure she’s not making fun of my name. It is unusual, but I don’t think it’s very laugh-worthy.” The teenager dismisses their thoughts, waving her hands frantically. 

“No, no, I laughed because that was the name I was hesitant on calling the baby. I don’t know if I’ll have a boy or girl yet, but I’m eager! I was contemplating naming them Kiziah or Kameron. I like the Ks,” she notes idly, ”it’s a very pretty, but kind of harsh sound. I like it anyway.” Her mother seems visibly calmer after the explanation. Just as she went to continue the conversation, getting very into it, Nikolai calls from the stage. The Queen pardons herself, backing away from the pair and climbing back onto the platform.


End file.
